


Entanglement

by rubyyong



Category: NCT (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nanny, Angst, Domestic, F/M, Fluff, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-13
Updated: 2018-11-13
Packaged: 2019-08-23 06:05:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16613339
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rubyyong/pseuds/rubyyong
Summary: When the mechanic shop you work for goes under, you’re desperate for a replacement job. Immediately applying for anything that appears in front of you to prevent being evicted within the next two weeks ..Lucky for you, single Father Doyoung is just as desperate for a nanny.





	Entanglement

**Author's Note:**

> SingleFather!Doyoung + Nanny!Reader.
> 
> Warnings: Dom!Doyoung + Sub!Reader. Profanities, description of a near-death experience, graphic smut; (unprotected sex, fingering, hair-pulling, slight cumplay & impregnation).

Despair, desperation, hopelessness.

The only way to describe the feeling at the pit of your stomach was a dangerous cocktail of all three. A concoction of negativity and anxiety that unforeseen unemployment brought along with it.

The mechanic workshop you had started training at last Summer had gone under without warning, the owner had struggled quietly as he steadily built up $600,000 in debt. While you're thankful you don't owe a cent, your unemployment causes just as much distress.

Being a novice mechanic wasn't your original career choice, far from it. You had dreams of becoming a daycare’s assistant, but when your modest bank loan for the course was rejected, you gave up, defeated. Eventually you accepted another job and agreed to being taught how to weld and check tyre compression in sacrifice of the dress-up corner and twinkle twinkle little star. Developing calloused hands and sporting a few burn scars at the other end of it.

You had worked everything from a dishwasher in a culinary school, to a recruitment agent for a paint ball course, all in the span of five years. You blamed your recklessness on your inability to feel truly content, constantly looking for something bigger and better in every situation.

Now you were left with your mere savings as a result of upgrading your car recently, the first selfish purchase in your adult life. You had planned to build your savings back up to a stable amount over the next few months, but the spontaneous change in your financial stability had you making other plans.

Your rent was due in two weeks time and there was no way you could afford it unless you starved for fourteen days straight, and the sound of the pizza delivery knocking at your door made it clear which route you chose. You were sat cross-legged on your beaten up mattress, the Margherita pizza opposite you, your only companion atop the love-heart spattered duvet cover.

"I'll sleep in a ball on the floor," you offer, half-jokingly. You hear a laugh down the phone and pout to yourself, munching on your pizza to console the obvious refusal. "I'm sorry babe, I've really got no room." You nod to yourself, "That's.. Okay", you assure, "I'll just keep looking."

"Alright babe, take care of yourself", you nod at the words and hang up, tossing your phone onto your bed with a huff. So much for friends.

It's way past midnight, the early hours of the morning approaching as you squint at the small words written on the newspaper’s classified ads in front of you. You didn't know they still made these things until your Mother suggested you look through one instead of applying online, the black and white text proving much more generous than you had originally thought.

Bikini model, must be six/seven ft tall.

You grunt, having fallen short quite a few centimetres, and cross it out with a strong red line.

Mascot for the Seoul Scorchers, $5 an hour.

$5 an hour?! You'd have to work six weeks to afford a single rent payment.

You cross it out with a sigh and rake your hands over your face in despair, huffing bitterly. You sit up and move to clean up the place, pausing with furrowed brows as you focus in on dark text with block letters, calling out for attention.

Nanny wanted, willing to negotiate on wages.

You pick up the paper, crumbling it in your hands as you re-read it over and over, how could you have almost missed this?

A nanny?..

This was the last thing you had expected to fall upon, but it wasn't the worst thing to consider. You adored children, adults were a little so-so, but children, were good. They tell it like it is, perhaps if your boss had been a toddler you'd have been forewarned to look for another job.

You scrawl the number attached onto a piece of scrap paper to remind yourself to call as soon as it's of appropriate time, falling asleep almost immediately after slipping under your sheets.

You wake the next day far later than you had planned, the ugly aftermath of a 5am finish after your job searching. As a result, you’re now almost completely sure the job has been filled.

You're stood in your modest kitchen with your phone in your hand, pacing around nervously, riddled with anxiety over the possibility of the job no longer being available as you press call. The phone rings, loud and repetitive as you press it to your ear, swallowing nervously as your fingertips tingle numb.

"Hello?"

Your mouth gapes at the sound of a male's voice, you don't know why, but you had dumbly assumed a woman would answer.

You clear your throat, "H-Hi, I'm calling about the nanny position."

"Ah," the stranger hums, "Yes, it's still available. What would you like to know?" You grin to yourself, "Thank God," you breathe, and there's a charming chuckle at your sound of relief on the other end. "How much does it pay?" You ask, curious beyond belief. "I can't really say over the phone you see, I'd have to see how you deal with my son before I consider revealing the amount. You could put on a show for all I know," he explains as if you’re applying to be a royal. You roll your eyes at his arrogant tone, but agree regardless.

"Call it a play date of sorts,” he drawls. “I'll send you the address," he bids. You stare down at your inbox, gleaming happily as you see the address in bold letters at the top of your screen mere seconds later.

4:30pm sharp, tomorrow. Is added to the end of the text.

You immediately jump to pick out an appropriate outfit, a soft pink dress that’s both pretty and comfortable paired with flat shoes. You change the combination around three times before coming back to your original decision, deciding it’s the best option to run around after a child in.

Your night is spent giving yourself a practice interview of predictable questions, rehearsing your smile and brushing up on your manners. You fall asleep chewing on your fingernails, anxiously waiting for the next day to arrive.

You dress neatly, apply a light fragrance and swipe on a soft coloured gloss before you leave your apartment, ready to impress Father and Son.

As you pull up to the address, your nerves worsen. The house is large and looks more expensive than you could attempt to make a guess over, the thought that they hire professionals suddenly making it’s way into your mind.

The stainless steel features, large wooden beams and sleek, modern architecture drawing a soft gasp from your lips as you walk across the front yard. Your eyes scan the large front door, frosted glass and more stainless steel facing you as you frown at the lack of a doorbell. Your knuckles almost bruising as you bring them up to knock against the surface of the door.

You rock back and fourth on your toes as you wait for a response, the sound of the door unlocking alerting you before it swings open. Your eyes trail upwards, slightly widening at the sight of the youthful stranger in front of you, deciding that he couldn't be more than a few years older than you.

He studies you, his expression vaguely blank and unreadable. “You must be here for the nanny position,” he nods toward you. You nod rapidly, too intimidated for words. "Kim Doyoung," he offers his hand and a small smile as you trail your gaze over his features. Feline-like eyes that match the colour of his dark hair, forearms lined with prominent veins exposed by the soft mustard button-down pulled past the skin.

Once you return his handshake and breathe your name quietly, he invites you in, guiding you through his airy hallway with high ceilings and bare, white walls. Light stone-coloured floorboards all throughout. He turns to you once you follow him into his grand kitchen, the monochromatic features and stainless steel accents catching your eye.

"Please," he motions toward his glass dining table, the metal framed chair scuffing against the floor as you pull it out and sit across from him. "So," he starts, "First things first, how old are you?"

"I'm twenty-three," you answer with a friendly smile, trying to impress with every chance you get. "So I assume this isn't your first position?" He asks teasingly. You smile, shaking your head. "Oh no, fuck I've probably worked close to 7 jobs," you pause, almost gasping as you bring a hand up to your lips. Cursing at yourself for the profanity you had let carelessly slip. He sighs heavily, eyes dark. "Do you speak with such vulgar language often?" He quizzes, distaste clear on his face.

Your eyebrows shoot up, "No, No!" You huff, "It was an accident," you admit sheepishly. He nods, "Because my son is only two, I don't need his limited vocabulary to include fuck," he explains, a stern tone to his voice. You nod at the reprimanding, cursing your casual demeanour and reminding yourself to watch your language if you want this job.

"Your son is two?" You ask, changing the subject. He nods, "Sungmin turns three in a few months,” he informs you. "He's very well behaved most of the time," he notes, "He loves affection and hates bathing," he explains. You smile amusedly, "Don't all children have a distaste for bathing at some point?"

"Unfortunately so," he sighs, "Do you have transport?" He asks, foregoing the friendly banter and slipping back into interview mode. You nod, "I just upgraded actually."

"Good," he nods as if taking a mental note, "Do you have permanent accommodation?" You nod once again, to which he hums at. "And lastly, do you have any qualifications in childcare?" You pause and shake your head truthfully, "I don't.. But I have a natural adoration towards children and I think if I was given the chance I would excel," you spill truthfully.

His eyes gaze into yours, with a twist of his lips he nods his head slowly, "I have to see how you are with him." Your heartbeat increases a little, the small comment planting a seed of hopefulness in your belly. He eyes you, taking in the way that you're appropriately dressed for the promised play date, clearing his throat. "Would you like to meet him?" You smile immediately, nodding at the question, spewing hopeful optimism at this point.

Doyoung leads you up his stairs to where you assume his son is. The entire second floor is covered in fluffy stone coloured carpet and the same white walls, in contrast with the stone coloured floorboards below. He leads you to a room where the door is slightly ajar, incoherent babbling muffled behind the door. He knocks on it a few times before pushing it open slowly.

"Sungmin, daddy wants you to meet someone," he says softly, almost in a baby voice. You smile quietly at the tone of his voice and the immediate change in his demeanour, intrigued by his duality. "Mm, daddy!" The toddler calls, holding up a Stegosaurus figurine. "Look!"

You wonder how he could have left such a small looking boy upstairs and alone for the duration of your interview, so innocent-looking that you couldn't imagine leaving him alone for any amount of time let alone a whole half-hour.

Doyoung nods, "Wow!" He feigns shock, his eyes widening and mouth going agape in feigned interest. "Who's that?" The little boy with the same feline-like eyes and dark hair as his Father points to you curiously. Doyoung turns to you as you give the toddler a small wave, he introduces you by name, "She's going to be your play buddy today, okay?"

"Okay," he nods happily, missing two front teeth and staring back at you as you move to sit cross-legged across from him. "Hi Sungmin," you smile, nervousness bubbling at the realisation that this all comes down to how this little boy reacts to you. "Hi," he waves adorably, chubby little fingers scrunching up with the action.

You smile at the sight, the little boy is heart-wrenchingly adorable and resembles his Father a ridiculous amount. Naturally outgoing and free-flowing with his limited words. "You like... Mm?" He points to his dinosaurs spread out on the stone-coloured carpet in front of him. You nod, "Can I play?" He nods happily, humming to himself over which one to give you. He picks up a Triceratops and hands it to you with two hands, as if it were a peace offering. "Thankyou," you nod towards him graciously.

He smiles, "His name is Johnny," he explains with a point of his finger, petting the head of a T-Rex affectionately in his lap. He's wearing dark blue pyjamas with red stitching and little gold stars spattered about randomly. You smile at the hard plastic figurine in your hand, "Johnny?" He nods, "And this is Teddy," he holds up the T-Rex. "He's the best one."

"He's cute," you admire with a nod. He giggles loudly, as if your words are that ridiculous. "He's not cute! He's scary." You chuckle, glancing out of the corner of your eye toward Doyoung's figure leant cross-legged against the door frame. A seemingly impressed smile gracing his features as he assesses the interaction.

"Do you know what sound Johnny makes?" You ask, with a tilt of your head. He pauses in contemplation, "He makes a sound?" You nod, "Yeah, he goes like this. Roarrr!" You growl playfully, pushing the toy toward his face. He giggles at the sound, copying it with his best attempt, "Roar!" You nod and laugh along with him, resisting the urge to pinch his chubby cheeks at the pure cuteness.

Doyoung leaves the room at one point, assuming he's become bored of watching you two play make believe with the figurines. The rest of the afternoon spent roar-ing and imitating what dinosaurs would sound like, had they have spoken words.

An hour later when you finally peel yourself away from the toddler in time for his nap, Doyoung quietly tells you the job is all yours.

"$250 a week," he explains. How cheap.

You pause, pondering over it. "$300," you push adamantly. His eyebrows shoot up, not expecting you to negotiate on what he thinks is a very reasonable amount. "I think $250 is pretty decent," he argues with an annoyed tilt of his head.

"My rent is $250 a fortnight, I need extra for utilities and necessities," you explain. That would leave you just enough to live pay check to pay check, as long as you have steady shifts. He sighs, the desperate look in your eyes appealing to his soft side far too much. "$300?" You nod, pleadingly with furrowed brows.

He nods, "$300, but if you miss a single appointment, it goes back down," he warns, narrowing his sharp eyes. You nod understandingly, thanking him repeatedly for his promised negotiation.

"I work 5 days a week as an architect, weekends off. Most days I work 8am-4pm, but the hours can be a little sporadic based on workload with clients.” You nod at the information, uncaring about anything other than the amount of pay at this point. "When do I-"

"Immediately, tomorrow morning," he cuts you off. You nod slowly, "Okay, so I should get here at 8?" He shakes his head, "I start at 8, you need to be here at least at 7:30." You sigh, your sleeping schedule definitely not in sync with his requirements. "I'll be here," you nod.

"Excellent," he smiles, handing over a spare key.

The night was spent explaining to your Mother the job you had just confirmed, the happy little sound she sends down the phone making you laugh. Your Mother works on a farm, volunteering as a produce picker in return for free accommodation and necessities. It's a life you refused to follow as it seemed degrading to you as she had no retirement fund or live savings whatsoever.

Your Mother had lost the small savings she once had in bad investments and naive hopefulness, resulting in the family home being sold from under her by the bank. "Still, I think what I do is a lot better than taking care of some well off fellow's child," she snorts. "I get free food and free T.V," she says, as if showing off.

You sigh heavily and away from the speaker, this was why you didn't call her often. Regardless of her obvious mistakes in life, she still had the guts to lecture you on what to do with yours and it frustrated you far too much. "It's fine, really," you exhale. "Look, I have to wake up really early I think I should get some sleep," you bid. She hums, "Alright you get some sleep, I love you."

"Love you," you repeat fondly as you hang up.

Dreams of dinosaurs and wads of cash racing through your mind.

You felt the effects of your sporadic sleeping pattern in the morning at full force. Your eyes swollen with no signs of going down as you drove, yawning, to Doyoung's house. He opens the door almost as soon as you knock on it, dressed in black slacks and a blushing rose-coloured shirt to compliment his alabaster skin. "You could've been 10 minutes earlier but, you're on time," he greets.

.. Morning to you too.

"Sungmin is still asleep," he says quietly, leading you through the house. “He usually naps around 3:30pm, he especially likes being picked up and held. He’s allowed 2 hours of T.V and the only thing he doesn’t eat is tomatoes,” he lists, thinking perhaps he should’ve written all of this down for you. “Do not let him play with your phone or any other device, I don’t want his brain rotted by technology,” he warns and you nod rapidly. "Help yourself to coffee or whatever," he waves his hand. "I'm going," he bids, his keys jingling as he picks up a glossy leather briefcase and trots out the door.

You've barely registered anything he's spewed out when the front door closes, and you're stood bleary eyed in his large kitchen. Your first reaction is to make a coffee, but once you're faced with his fancy machine, foam spouts and all, you not only decide that he must be a coffee snob, but that you'd rather drink a glass of water instead of trying to figure out how it works.

You hear little footsteps pattering against the roof above in light stomps, signalling the toddler has awoken and you feel genuine excitement at the day ahead. You quickly head upstairs to greet him and smile when you see him in the hall, rubbing at his eyes with the back of his hand, pouting.

"Good morning," you greet him softly, eyeing his bright yellow Spongebob Squarepants pyjamas. "Where's daddy?" He rasps, scratching at his scalp, and you're almost afraid he'll start crying at the tone in which he asks. "He's already gone to work, Sungmin," you explain hesitantly. He nods, "Oh, okay." You sigh at his response, pleasantly relieved. "Are you hungry?"

He nods rapidly, his tongue poking out against his bottom lip as he does. “May I pick you up?” You ask and he nods almost immediately, holding his arms out. You giggle at the sight, scooping him up in your arms easily as you head downstairs. He rests his head against your shoulder as you walk over to the kitchen, sliding him into his high chair and making sure to secure him into it. "What do you like to eat?" You ask, bending down slightly to come face-to-face with him. He kicks his legs back and forth as he thinks, "Pancakes," he nods thoroughly.

You're thankful his answer is one of the few recipes you know by memory, collecting the ingredients from the well organised walk-in pantry and whipping up the batter. Sungmin babbles and talks to himself quite a lot, something you've noticed in the quiet kitchen as you cook up a small stack for the boy. You're thankful he's not an iPad baby but you do remind yourself to bring something to occupy him with next time.

You search the kitchen for a plate and internally soften at the sight of the little plastic ones with cartoon animals painted onto them. As you plate up the pancakes the scene plays out in your head before you can question it; Doyoung in the middle of the children's section, convincing Sungmin the Zebra is definitely more superior than the Giraffe plate.

You place the plate onto Sungmin's small food tray attached to the chair, satisfied with your effort. He just scrunches his face up confusedly and looks up at you, eyes wide and expectant. "Oh, right," you chuckle sheepishly.

What did you expect? Him to pick up the knife and use it?

You cut the pancakes into small pieces for him, drizzling a little maple syrup onto them per his polite request. When you look up he's sitting there with his mouth wide open, expectantly. You smile at the toddler and feed him, as he munches happily, making little 'Mm!' Noises throughout that have you feeling content with your efforts.

You reach a hand up to brush the soft baby hairs away from his face and smile when he giggles, "Tickles," he squirms. You coo at the sight, every little action he does making your heart flip with adoration. "Does it?" You tease, he nods, flashing a toothless grin. "What do you usually do now?" You ask, placing the dirty dish into the sink. He shrugs, scrunching up his nose. "Uhm... T.V!" He offers rather excitedly, how could you say no?

So you spend the rest of the afternoon with Sungmin on Doyoung's luxurious cream leather sofa, the large screen playing hours upon hours of high-energy musicals and action-packed cartoons where dogs solve crimes. Sungmin is sat cross-legged in front of the screen with a cushion under his little butt when you decide to rest your eyes for a bit. Naturally falling into slumber as a grown man softly strums a lullaby about bears on the screen.

You dream of cakes and ramen noodles and something about a talking bird..

You jolt awake, suddenly hyper-aware that you were supposed to be looking after a toddler. Sighing in relief as Sungmin stares up at you, laughing at the sight of you clutching your chest.

"Are you sleepy?" He asks, cocking his head to the side. You shake your head, "No, I was just pretending," you reassure him. He seems to believe your lie as he points to the screen, "They're playing big kid shows now," he pouts. You focus your eyes on the watch strapped around your wrist and sigh, 2pm.

"I'm hungry," Sungmin sing-songs, wandering around with Teddy still in his grasp. You nod and head to the kitchen to fetch him another meal, piling the dirty dishes into the sink once he's finished his fruits and yoghurt.

By 3pm Sungmin has taken a turn and is yawning and cranky, whining incessantly about wanting his 'Sharky'.

You've looked everywhere, his toy chest, his closet, under his bed and through all his drawers. But find nothing that resembles a Sharky. As desperation settles in, you decide your only hope is Doyoung, dialling his number as you cradle a distressed Sungmin against your hip. "Hello?" He answers.

"Mr. Kim it's me." He hums, "How can I help you? Everything going well, I hope?"

"Sungmin keeps asking for a Sharky, but I can't find it anywhere," you sigh, perplexed. He sighs into the phone, "It's in my bedside drawer, I keep it in there when he's behaving badly. Only give it to him if he's being good, okay?" He warns.

You nod as if he can see you and Sungmin suddenly whines loudly at the lack of attention. "Sh sh sh," you hush him softly. "It’s okay Sungmin," you encourage, swaying from side to side. Doyoung sighs down the phone, "He doesn't sound like he's being very good."

"He's just cranky because he's sleepy," you defend, eyes on the toddler making small whimpering noises against your shoulder. "There's no excuse for his temperament, he doesn't deserve his toy," Doyoung says, annoyed. You roll your eyes at his lack of empathy and decide to ignore his words, "Okay, thankyou anyway," you bid, not sure why you're even thanking him.

"Mm," he grunts as he hangs up. You scoff at his actions and put your phone down, immediately trotting upstairs and placing Sungmin into his bed. The ultra-cool bed shaped like a racing car.

"Stay here for me okay? I'm getting Sharky for you," you nod, brushing his hair back as he pouts. He nods and turns on his stomach, burying his face into his pillow. You wander through a few rooms before you come across a bedroom which you assume belongs to your employer. Monochromatic and painfully neat.

You go through his drawers until you find the small plushie of a shark smiling up at you. "You must be Sharky," you chuckle as if you hit the jackpot, carrying the toy with you to the awaiting toddler. "Sungmin," you sing-song. He looks up from his pillow, his pout immediately disappearing as you pass the shark to him. He squeezes it to his chest with a heart wrenching smile, swaying it from side to side as he gives it a bone-crushing hug. "Can you sleep now?" You ask quietly, he nods obediently and lies down under his covers.

"Good boy," you praise him, proud of how well he's obeying someone he's known for less than 24 hours. He snuggles under his comforter with his beloved plushie, falling asleep almost immediately after his hour-long tantrum.

Doyoung arrives home at ten past four, the sound of his car pulling up in the driveway alerting you from the kitchen. He enters the house quietly and heads upstairs for another five minutes before he finally faces you. You offer a friendly smile upon his presence entering the kitchen, "Evening-"

"Was he good?" Doyoung asks, his tie undone but hair still perfectly neat and styled with glossy gel. You pause and nod, "He was good," you reassure. "Good enough for him to have his silly shark?" He asks, his tone almost accusatory. You part your lips, "Yes, he calmed down for me as soon as I gave it to him," you furrow your brows at his lack of trust.

He shakes his head disapprovingly, "You don't give it to him so he can calm down, he has to calm down before you give it to him," he explains in an annoyed tone. "I.... I'm sorry," you look down, not sorry at all and suddenly rethinking the position altogether if this is how strict he's going to be.

"Look, if you can't handle him-"

"I can!" You plead, "Please! I can look after him, I cooked for him and everything," you offer, your tone desperate at this point. He eyes you, sizes you up as you bring your intertwined hands up under your chin as you plead. His gaze lingers on your pout and puppy dog eyes for too long, sighing heavily with defeat.

"I expect better tomorrow," he narrows his eyes. You nod rapidly, "I promise." He nods, "You’re dismissed."  
image

The next day goes very similarly, only when you knock on his door in the morning, Doyoung has a lot more to say.

"Yesterday you cooked?" You nod with a proud smile, happy with the reminder of your effort. He slides his tongue over his teeth in clear frustration, "And you didn't clean up your mess?" You pause and realise you had left all the dishes in the sink, silently cursing. "I'm sorry," you almost pout as you apologise, "I forgot about them." He sighs, running a hand over his dark hair. "I expect better today," he reminds you with a steady tone, you nod rapidly as he brushes past you to leave for work.

Your second day goes a lot smoother, Sungmin slept in for a little longer and was in a better mood as a result. He encouraged you to play dinosaurs with him again, far into the late afternoon before he lost his interest. When evening comes around and Doyoung is due to arrive home, you get a bright idea to further impress him.

"Sungmin, do you want to take a bath?" You ask, hoping he says yes as you take in the strong wafts of sweat radiating from the boy. He looks up at you with rounded eyes, "Will you come in with me?" You chuckle, "No, I'm already clean," you explain. He looks unsure as you fill the bath halfway for him, encouraging him to keep on the bathing suit you picked out for him to put on.

He holds onto your hand with an iron grip as you urge him to get in, he shakes his head, detesting incessantly against the bath. You roll your eyes playfully, picking him up in your arms and placing him into the water. He buckles, screaming immediately as he touches the water. You panic, thinking you had made the water too hot and reach for the cold tap.

Sugmin's screams are on-going as you fiddle with the taps, "What's wrong?" You ask, your heart beating wildly at the thought of him in pain. In a split second the bathroom door swings open with a loud bang, causing you to jump. Doyoung pushes your hands aside and scoops Sungmin into his arms immediately.

You pant from your position on the floor, as Sungmin cries into Doyoung's shirt. He eyes you, nostrils flared as he rubs his son's back soothingly, hushing him as he leaves the room. You feel tears of confusion prick at your eyes as you drain the bath and mop up the excess water with a towel, heading downstairs to wait in the hall for Doyoung's dismissal.

It's a few minutes before Doyoung re-appears, you hear the heavy sigh before you see him and practically shake in your spot as he walks down the stairs. He calls your name, voice quietly stern.

Oh God, this is it.

"Come sit down," he says, leading you to his dining table. You swallow thickly as you sit across from him, your hands folded in your lap and your eyes glued to the table. "Sungmin doesn't like bathing for a reason," he starts, angling his gaze. "You should know I was granted full custody only two months ago," he explains. "His Mother left him unattended and found him unconscious in the bath." You lift your head, gasping at the confession.

"They revived him just in time," he says pausing. His voice wavering as he continues, "He was taken from her immediately and I was granted sole guardian as a result." You panic, tears threatening to prick at your eyes. "I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry," you breathe shakily. He nods, "I would've told you sooner, but I didn't think you would try to bathe him on your own. I usually do it myself when I come home," he explains. You bite your lip, cursing your need to impress as you take in the information for next time.

"If you do plan to bathe him again," he pauses. "You have to get in with him." You tilt your head, "Is that okay?" He nods, "I'd ask you to wear a bathing suit though, he doesn't need to learn about female anatomy so soon." You burn, slightly embarrassed at his explanation and nod, reminding yourself to bring a bathing suit along next time you dare to bathe him. "I'm so so sorry," you breathe again, feeling horrified for having traumatised the innocent boy. He nods, "It's okay now, he's asleep. Just please remember next time." You nod rapidly, bidding a small farewell as he dismisses you.

The next few weeks go past quickly, your routine of waking early and sleeping early now well and truly stuck in habit.

When you shop now, you find yourself checking the prices on Sungmin’s favourite foods and start learning healthier recipes to make him. You find yourself bringing him little toys here and there and Doyoung thinks he should be a little more like you when Sungmin runs to you in favour of him when you suggest going to a park together.

Sungmin is more comfortable around you, if possible. He lets you clean his face off and brush his hair and he finally enjoys brushing his teeth due to the new Spongebob toothbrush you bought him to match his pyjamas.

When Doyoung returns home one day, nursing a hoarse cough, you worry about the toddler catching the same thing. "I'm not going to work tomorrow," he sniffles, voice nasal and distant. "I feel like fucking hell," he groans, holding his head in his head. You almost want to offer a warm drink or a vitamin, but refrain. Settling for an obedient nod instead.

"Can you stay overnight?" He asks, bloodshot eyes staring into yours pleadingly. You part your lips, trying to think of a reason to say no, "I.. Uh."

"Please," he begs, "I can't look after him tonight like this, God forbid he gets sick too." You sigh and nod, "Okay." He sighs, relieved. "Thankyou. And I'll add the overtime to your wages, don't worry," he adds in as if reading your mind. He leads you to a guest bedroom, one right beside Sungmin's and the room is almost identical to Doyoung's, but a fraction smaller. Only enough room for the queen bed and a bedside table on each side, a chest of drawers sitting against the wall opposite.

"If you need anything and Sungmin doesn't have the answer, wake me up," he says in a nasal tone, turning to walk to his room for a much needed sleep. "Wait!" You call, he pauses and turns on his heel, looking to you expectantly.

"I don't have anything to wear to sleep," you say in a small voice, eyes trailing elsewhere. Your jeans have mashed pear on them and it’s way too cold to sleep nude. "Wait there," he huffs, disappearing into his room. He emerges with a white button down in his hands, handing it over to you with two hands. "This is all I have that might fit you," he says, gazing across your figure. "Anything else would swallow you up." You look down at your body and back to the shirt, thanking him in an embarrassed mutter.

It's past 6pm when Sungmin spills orange juice onto his clothes in his high chair, and Doyoung is still fast asleep. You fill the bath halfway and slip on your highly appropriate and fashionable, bright pink one-piece and encourage him to put on his swim shorts as you look away.

"I don't want to," he whines softly as he stares at the water hesitantly. "I'm coming in with you this time," you reassure him. He looks up at you with brighter eyes, as if the sentence was all he needed to hear. "You?" He asks, exasperated. You nod rapidly, "You can sit with me the whole time," you promise.

He gives a small nod, little fingers still gripping onto yours tightly as you step into the water slowly. You help him in after you and take a seat and pulling him into your lap as you let the warm water wash over you. He relaxes against your front, more calm with your arm secured around his small frame, making sure he doesn't slip from your grasp.

"Is this okay?" You ask. He nods, "Nice and warm," he gushes. You smile, thankful that Doyoung's instructions worked as you watch him relax into the water, little plastic toys floating about to occupy him. You turn him slightly in your lap, still securing him as you fill up a cup and use it to wash over his sticky skin. "Close your eyes, okay?" You warn.

He nods and obeys as you fill up the cup and pour it over his hair, the toddler giggling at the action. You can't help but laugh along with him as you wet his hair, deciding shampoo is not a task you want to attempt whilst you're still so inexperienced with him. Water will do.

The bathroom door cracks open quietly, so quietly that you don't notice Doyoung is standing there until Sungmin wipes his eyes off and points to him. "Daddy!" He beams happily, his wet hair sticking up in all directions as he runs his hands through the strands roughly. Doyoung smiles and you notice that he appears slightly healthier than he did when he first came home, if possible. His face is still puffy and his voice raspy, but he’s less pale and sickly looking.

"You having fun?" He asks playfully, and for a moment you’re unsure whether he’s talking to you or Sungmin. The toddler nods and slaps his hands against the water. "She came in with me, look!" Doyoung chuckles as you smile at the acknowledgement, "I can see," he nods, taking in the cute pink bathing suit with a curious glance.

"Do you want to get out?" You ask the toddler, "You're all clean now," you smile. He nods, "Let me," Doyoung assures, walking over and picking up Sungmin from the bath, wrapping him in a fluffy towel as he carries him out of the room. You're suddenly hit with the fact that you’ve definitely underestimated the number of towels hung up in the bathroom, sat in the lukewarm water until you finally decide your only option is to get out.

You drain the bath and stand up on slippery feet, stepping out onto the marble tiles with no control over your balance. When you bring your left foot out of the bath you slip, falling forward onto your knees with a small squeal. You groan out at the painful contact, hurried footsteps barely registering in your ears before Doyoung appears in the doorway. He calls your name in a panic, crouching down in front of you, "Are you okay?"

You groan, "I'm okay," you nod, lifting your hands to soothe over the throbbing in your palms. He sighs, "Stay there." You shiver as the air hits your wet skin, your hair itchy-cold against your neck.

"Here," Doyoung appears, draping a warm towel over your back as he helps you to stand. Your wet hand gripping onto his as you regain your composure.  
Doyoung scans you for injuries, sighing in content at the apparent lack-there-of. When you bring your gaze to meet his, he acts as though he wasn't eyeing the pebbled buds beneath your wetsuit, and diverts his gaze to yours.

You quickly scramble to wrap the towel around your chest, diverting your eyes, embarrassed at your fall. "Sorry," you mutter quietly. He sighs from across you, "Be careful next time." You nod as he walks off, letting out a breath as his figure disappears.

That night you sleep in his shirt in his sheets in his house and it's him that you dream of. Confused in the morning when you suddenly have memories of a cafe date with a chai latte and a smiley Doyoung across from you.

You forget that Doyoung has taken the day off work when you slide into the kitchen for a warm coffee, pausing when you see Doyoung reading a newspaper with a mug in his hand. He lifts his gaze to yours, spluttering over his black coffee as he absorbs the image of you draped solely in one of his work shirts.

“Sorry,” you mutter shyly, trying to pull the shirt over the length of your thighs as you stand awkwardly in front of him. “No,” he shakes his head, because he’s more sorry than you are. Because all he can seem to think of is the length of your legs and the ruby red polish on your toes. “I was just finishing,” he says, placing his mug in the sink and leaving the room before his mind races.

The next week the only thing you can picture is the way Doyoung held you on the slippery floor of his bathroom. The way his hand gripped onto yours so tightly, as if he feared you would fly away. Silly thoughts... You try to remind yourself. The small burst of attention wasn't helping the lack of romance and intimacy in your life. It had been a good year since your last relationship, let alone dating of any kind.

Alright, maybe Doyoung was attractive.

His features so soft yet striking and sharp at the same time, lop-sided lips and soft blinks and... That scent. The soft, clean scent that demanded your attention when he dismissed you at the end of the day or greeted you in the morning. The man you once defined as rude and arrogant was slowly burrowing his way under your skin and you didn't know how to stop him.

One quiet afternoon you had suggested to him that he should spend more time with Sungmin, explaining that his son had no stories of adventure with his Father. Doyoung looked upset as the facts were laid out in front of him and he sighed, defeated, promising to put more time aside for his son.

"I'm taking a month off work," Doyoung declares to you at the end of a busy afternoon.

"Eh-eh?" You stutter. If he takes a month off, you'll have no income whatsoever to support your living expenses. Your savings that you had just begun to build again were so minimal, that it'd dwindle down to nothing in no time.

"A whole month, I'll take Sungmin anywhere he wants to go. I heard him say something about Lego Land," he nods, as if noting it down in his head. You swallow and will yourself not to panic until you double-check your savings.

Maybe you had misread a zero.. Maybe there were three.

"I start from Monday, you'll basically have the month off too. That is unless I need you," he explains, angling his gaze. You nod slowly, "So.. I don't come in on Monday?" He shakes his head seemingly happy, "You're free for the month."  
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The first few days without work were bizarre. Waking up so early with nothing to do left for boring days to blur into each other as they passed. Several naps taken sporadically. Whether you're catching up on T.V. Or painting your nails, whatever it is you can't help wondering how Sungmin is. Whether he's playing or if he's eating well, if he's smiling or if he's in one of his moods.

... And then there's Doyoung.

You wonder how he's coping. If he's handling Sungmin smoothly on his own or if he's loosing his temper with the toddler. You don't hear from Doyoung for the first two weeks, and you unfortunately have dwindled down to your last bit of savings.

The lack of work eating up your savings as you were smacked with an increased power bill, probably due to the fan you constantly had switched on every night. It happens on a quiet Thursday afternoon, you're lazed across on your unkempt bed about to doze off when there's a series of knocks on your door.

You heave yourself off the warm surface and pad over to the door, swinging it open hesitantly. When you're met with your landlord, you already know it can't be good, whatever she has to say. She smiles, almost false looking as she greets you.

You nod, "What can I help you with?" You smile back, brushing your hair behind your ear in a last ditch effort to make her rethink whatever she has to say. She clears her throat, pulling out a folded piece of paper from under her arm. "This is the third and unfortunately, final time that you're late for your rental payment," she informs with a blank face.

Your heart immediately drops to your stomach, "No," you deny, taking the document and reading it for yourself. Everything that she says is written down, big block letters reading EVICTION NOTICE along the top of the paper. She nods, "I'm afraid so, you know about the 3 strike rule, you signed the contract when you moved in," she reminds you.

You nod slowly, your eyes glued to the scuffed up wood beneath your toes. "I have to go?" She nods slowly, pity etched into her aged skin. "You have until Monday." You nod, almost refraining but regardless, thanking her as you close the door behind you.

You stumble over to your sofa feeling numb and like an absolute failure of an adult. You couldn't keep a relationship, couldn't hold down a job and now you could add inability to keep permanent residence to the list of disappointments.

You take your face into your hands and hunch over your knees, tears of distress filling your eyes. You let them fall silently as you wrap your head around the situation, you were about to be homeless and had nowhere whatsoever to go.

There was the farm where your Mother worked, but that was 3 hours from the city. There was no way you'd detach yourself from civilisation, even if it meant roaming the streets instead. There were no trustworthy friends to turn to anymore and God knows, there was no boyfriend to help take you in.

So you cried harder, you took in your surroundings, the bland apartment that you had grown to be so comfortable in. And the furniture that held the shape of your body from being frequented so much, the furniture that had to stay behind when you leave.

You barely register the sound of your phone vibrating wildly across the wooden coffee table opposite you, until you quiet your whimpers and pick it up with shaky hands.

"Hello?" Doyoung asks. You sniffle, "Yeah?" There's a quiet pause on the other end before he responds, "Are you okay?" You bite your lip at his concern, holding back more tears as you take a shaky breath. "I just got evicted," you reveal, desperately craving sympathy. There's a sigh on the other end, "What for?" You swallow thickly, "I missed my rent payment three times."

"Why didn't you say something?" He asks, sounding slightly agitated. "It's nothing that concerns you," you answer softly. "I think it does, if you're homeless I don't want you around my son. Someone that careless who can't look after themselves, surely can't be trusted with another life."

Your mouth gapes at his insensitive words, expecting consolation instead of a scolding, you scoff. "It's your month-long holiday that caused this, I used most up all of my savings trying to survive because I wasn't getting work." There's a heavy breath on the other line, a pause, and then a hum. "Well if it's my fault," he pauses. "You can come and stay here for a while, until you get back up on your feet."

You furrow your eyebrows, the idea appealing to you way too much as you ponder over it. There was absolutely nowhere else you could go as soon as Monday, plus it would allow you to spend more time with Sungmin and his Father. "I....” You chew on your lip in hesitation, “Okay," you agree.

"Then it's settled," Doyoung confirms.

Your Sunday is spent packing up your clothes and belongings, eating whatever leftover food you have in your kitchen as you throw yourself a devastating goodbye party.

Monday morning you drive yourself over to Doyoung's, after having turned in your key to your bitter landlord. The utterly depressing drive spent blowing your face with the heater up full to stop yourself from tearing up. Doyoung answers the door almost immediately after you knock on it, swinging it open with an unreadable expression that could be mistaken for sympathy.

"Thank-"

As you open your mouth to speak, Sungmin runs up to you, hugging your leg with a happy sound bubbling out of his lips. You chuckle sadly and bend down to pick him up. "I missed you!" He complains, wrapping his arms loosely around your neck in a hug. You can't help it, saddened tears falling as you smile at the gorgeous boy snuggling into your side. You squish your face against his head as you wipe at your tears, your gaze finding Doyoung’s concerned eyes.

"Are you okay?" Doyoung asks quietly with furrowed brows. You nod, Sungmin pulling back so he can eye you. "Why are you crying?" He asks softly. You shake your head, "I just missed you, that's all," you lie, faking a smile. He giggles, "You don't need to cry," he drawls out. You nod, a sheepish smile painting your lips. "Did you miss daddy too?" He points to Doyoung.

Your eyes find his and you chuckle, nodding. "I missed daddy too," you assure him. The corner of Doyoung's lips turn up and he makes a noise between a hum and a grunt, as he leads you through to the kitchen where two coffees are waiting and steaming at the dining table.

You take a seat opposite him, Sungmin still seated in your lap as you take the coffee into your hand, humming when you find that he’s made it with your favourite Vanilla beans. "Thankyou so much Mr. Kim," you gush, "I'd never have asked this of you, I know I'm being a burden but I promis-"

"You're not a burden," he cuts you off with narrowed eyes, making sure you believe him. "You're perfectly welcome here, I'm not feigning kindness." You nod, "I wasn't saying you were. I just.. Feel a little pathetic," you admit with a bitter huff. "Not pathetic at all," Doyoung refuses as he furrows his brows, "Things happen in life for a reason, they always do," he explains. Leaning over to take Sungmin into his lap, "Don't they, son?"

The little boy nods happily, as if he understands that he’s being used as an example. You nod with a sigh, repeating the words in your head as you unpack into the guest room upstairs. You're sat on the edge of the neatly made bed, making out the sounds of Sungmin giggling through the wall in the next room.

There's a knock on your door and when you look up, Doyoung is standing there with a smile. "Are you okay?" He asks once again. You sigh and nod timidly, still fearing as though you're coming off as a burden. "Look," he takes a seat beside you, making you bounce slightly. "As soon as you're stable you can leave, if you hate it here that much."

You lift your head to defend yourself but pause when you see him smiling, "Only joking," he teases, you sigh. "I'm just so appreciative that you've let me stay here," you ensure him. "Thankyou so much, really Mr. Kim."

"Doyoung," he rolls his eyes. "Just call me Doyoung." You feel as though you've levelled up in a video game when he speaks the words to you,

Just call me Doyoung.

"Doyoung," you repeat, the name sounding foreign on your tongue. "Thankyou so much." He nods, "You're welcome, plus I'm sure Sungmin will love having you around more often." You smile at the reminder as Doyoung places a hand over yours, his velvety touch numbing your skin and erasing your smile. "If you need anything, don't hesitate," he breathes warmly as he stands to leave.

You swallow thickly as he walks away, the skin-on-skin contact exciting you far too much than normal. The sensation seeming to linger for hours.

The first few nights are slightly awkward, Doyoung can't cook very well and neither can you, but you offer to as a thankyou, regardless. Your mediocre attempt at lasagne turned out better than you had expected, the impressed look on Doyoung's face was enough to get you flustered and think of repeating the meal so he could compliment you some more.

After dinner Doyoung was occupied with putting Sungmin to sleep and you were quietly piling the dishes into the dishwasher, satisfied with your place in the household now. "You can stay as long as you want... You know," Doyoung drawls as if coming out of nowhere. You turn around with a soft gasp, not having heard him enter the kitchen.

"Sorry," he chuckles, "Did I scare you?" You nod, chuckling as you take in his words. "I'm just having trouble finding a place," you explain. "It's fine, no rush," he reassures you, with a wave. You nod quietly, the mood suddenly awkward as you bask in his kind words. The handsome man seeming to appear softer and more gentle with each day that passes by.

"Doyoung?" He hums in response, his palm tucked under his chin as he stares back at you. "Can I ask you something?" You ask, leaving the dishwasher to stand before him. He nods, taking in the way that you wring the dish towel nervously in your hands. "Can you tell me about Sungmin's Mother?" You ask curiously, something you've wanted to bring up since he revealed the toddler's cheat of death, a month prior.

He nods, "Camilla," he reminisces with a sigh. "We met in University. She was a beautiful brunette who was smart and witty and extensively planned our dates during our courtship," he starts. "We dated for three years before we married, most of our relationship after marriage spent working and apart from each other. When she fell pregnant, I was over the moon and cut down on work hours to be at her side", he recalls.

"It spiralled from there really, she didn't truly want to have kids and she lacked maternal instinct. So when Sungmin was born It was really me who did most of the work afterwards. She fell into a post-natal depression and started stealing prescription pads from her doctor's office and chose the life of an addict over one of a Mother."

You gasp quietly, hanging on completely engrossed with every word that spills from his lips. "I filed for divorce when Sungmin was six-months old, I thought she would get help but she refused. We were granted shared custody on account of her drug test on the day, coming up negative," he shakes his head at the recollection.

He pauses, "It took that near death incident for the court to actually hand full custody over to me. We don't have contact with her, It's prohibited actually. Until she proves she’s completely clean and stable," he explains. "Whoa," you huff. "Yeah," he nods. You stand there in an increasingly awkward silence, unsure of how to continue the conversation as you tap your foot against the hardwood floor.

"Would you... Care for a glass of wine?" He asks quietly, eyes sparkling in the dim light.

Your face lights up, not remembering the last time you could afford alcohol. You nod rapidly, watching him collect two deep glasses and fill them halfway with velvety red wine. The small glug sounds resonating through the kitchen. He places a filled glass in front of where you're leant against the counter. "Is red okay?" He asks, already sipping his. You're tempted to say no, just to test his reaction, but nod anyway. "I love red."

"Perfect," he smiles.  
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Since that late night, things had been quietly flirtatious between you and Doyoung. He asked if you were single and after you gave a small nod he immediately went quiet. You asked him the same and he nodded with a scoff, "I don't have time to even look for a woman," he told you with narrowed eyes, adding in. "At this point it'd only happen if she were to appear right in front of me," he told you with another quiet sip.

Little things like him refilling your water glass at dinner or washing your laundry with his were messing with your mind. You were starting to feed off of the small acts of kindness and it was unhealthy. Especially since you were here to take care of his son, he was not part of the deal.

It happens one day when you're sharing a coffee in the kitchen over a quiet chat. Sungmin runs up to you with a smile, greeting a small good morning as Doyoung scoops him up into his arms. The small kiss he presses to his son's face causing your heart to swell in your chest.

"Daddy?" Sungmin asks curiously. "Mmm?" His Father hums, adjusting the shirt down his son's belly. He says your name, pausing as if collecting his thoughts. "Is she going to be my Mummy?" He asks. Doyoung raises his brows and you're sure your heart stops beating in preparation of how he's going to answer. He hums, "Hm, Sungmin. She looks after you, but she's not your Mummy." He explains, eyes gazing yours and you nod slowly in agreeance.

The toddler sulks as he nods, understanding. "We're still friends, aren't we?" You ask, laying a hand on his back. He looks up and nods with big round eyes staring up at you, "You're not upset, are you?" He pauses, scrunching his lips up in thought. "I'm mad at Daddy." Doyoung scoffs, hurt, his eyes widening, "Why?!"

"You won't let her be my Mummy," he sulks. You smile, amused and flattered both at the same time. "Can I take him?" You ask, Doyoung passes him to you with a huff, crossing his arms as he watches the boy cling to you. You run a hand softly over his hair, hushing him as he continues to grumble.

"Do you want to play with Sharky?" You offer. He lifts his head with a small gasp, "Yes!" You chuckle at his excitement, eyes looking to Doyoung's for assurance. "He's been good," he nods, amused that you even look to ask anymore. Sungmin cheers and leans up to press a sloppy kiss to the bottom of your chin, making you giggle and swoon at the same time. Doyoung scoffs at the sight, mumbling something about his lack of kisses and trots off to retrieve Sharky.

As the day passes on, Sungmin is napping and you're preparing dinner as Doyoung revels in his time away from work. Trading in measuring tape and charcoal pencils for T.V and nap times. His patience has grown with all of his concentration going into Sungmin during his time off, he’s more attentive and you’ve taught him to distinguish the difference between each of his cries.

"Have I ever mentioned how jealous I am over how much Sungmin adores you?" He asks, watching from the side as you dice carrots. You chuckle sheepishly, playfully refusing. "Eyy, I think he loves you a whole lot more."

"Hardly,“ he scoffs, “If I don't scoop you up, he will." You pause, your grip on the knife faltering as you slice a small incision into your index finger. You gasp and jump back, holding the finger up as it leaks crimson tears. Doyoung immediately grabs the finger and you watch in quiet shock as he slowly brings it to his mouth, using his tongue to put pressure over the small wound with little sucks in an effort to stop the bleeding.

Your lips part as you watch with wide eyes, your heart beating so loudly in your ears that it distracts you from breathing. He draws the finger out of his mouth, cool air hitting it as he assesses the incision, "The bleeding has slowed down, let me get a band-aid," he says quietly, leaving the room.

You're stood still in your spot, completely stunned at what had played out in front of your half-prepared stir-fry. All you can remember is the feel of his warm tongue along your finger as he enters the room with promised band-aid in hand. He gently wraps it around the finger, the little yellow Minions staring up at you once he’s done.

His eyes search yours as he looks up, "Is that better?" He asks quietly, a dark tone underlining his voice. You exhale softly, nodding instead of speaking, afraid of your words coming out rushed and jumbled.

If I don't scoop you up, he will.

The words repeat endlessly in your head as you lie in bed, staring into the complete darkness of the room.

If I don't.

..What did that even mean?

Was Doyoung thinking of you in the same way you had been thinking of him? Were you more than just a nanny at this point, the small bursts of kindness and affection made with purpose? You huff and toss and turn and try to ignore the butterflies in your stomach at the possibility.

The next morning at breakfast, Doyoung hands you your vanilla coffee with a soft brush across your lower back. The touch sending goose bumps haywire underneath the soft velvet of your purple robe. "How's your finger?" He asks, looking over at you from behind his mug as he takes quiet sips. You swallow thickly, "Better," you rasp, swirling a silver spoon in your drink. "Good," he drawls with a hum.

The encounter is enough to keep you reeling with excitement until midday, when he brushes his hands along yours, trying to show you how to de-pit a pomegranate in the correct way.

By evening you can't keep your eyes off of him, even the way he chews becomes attractive to you, something about the way his jaw flexes.

You're in the kitchen, pouring a glass of water while he's upstairs tucking Sungmin in. The soft footsteps headed towards the kitchen alerting you as you bring the glass to your lips. The steps pause in the doorway, causing a wave of nerves to hit you. You place the glass down with a shaky hand as the steps come up behind you.

You hear Doyoung's soft breaths behind you, but you try to act as though you don't, as his presence overwhelms you. "Are you planning to do something about the way you stare at me?" He asks, lowly. Your breath catches in your throat at the question, your eyes widening in the dimly lit room. There's a long pause before you think of something to say, soft breaths filling the empty silence in favour of words.

"Are you planning to do something about the way you touch me?" You challenge, slowly turning to face him. Your eyes slide to the floor in reflex as he takes a step forward, his soft breaths now fanning your face. "And if I am planning to do something?" He dares, his voice dripping in dangerous shades of dark velvet.

You breathe steadily, your hands in nervous fists at your side. His tone has your belly swirling with sensations that make your heartbeat pick up in anticipation. "Do you want me to?" He simply deadpans. You let out a shaky breath, your mouth going dry at the confirmation that your delusional thoughts had been true all this time.

"Y..." You exhale, "Yes."

He lifts his hand, gently lifting your chin until you face him again. He breathes your name in a soft call, "I wouldn't paint you as a woman who would lust after their employer," he tilts his head. Your cheeks heat up at his words, you had expected him to be soft and gentle when it came to you, not cold and overwhelmingly dominant.

You swallow thickly, the sound audible between the two of you. "And you... How long have you been planning to fuck your nanny?" You spit out, the courage bubbling from the offence taken over his comment. He smirks at this, "Plan?" He sucks in a breath through his teeth, as if in thought. "I didn't have to plan anything. You see, I knew you'd be putty in my hand sooner or later, you're only human," he breathes, amusement tingeing his voice. You scoff, now too annoyed to play flirt and play coy. "It's not like tha-"

"But it is," he speaks confidently. "You see me, a successful man who has their life together and happens to be a brilliant Father," he pauses. "You can't help but get your little panties wet over it."

Your lips part, each sentence more shocking that the last. "And me?" You fight back through your embarrassment, "You see me-" You pause, mustering up feigned confidence to match his words as you retaliate, he awaits your response with folded arms. "I'm young, and beautiful, and-" you pause to think, "I'm the Mother your son never had," you spit out.

His nostrils flare, his jaw clenched as he snaps, lunging forward and pressing his lips to yours. Painfully hard but delicious and burning hot, his hands framing your face in a way that screams nothing but built-up passion. Your hands scramble to grab fistfuls of his shirt as his tongue is suddenly intertwining with yours. Teeth and tongue clashing as silvery strands of saliva drip down the sides of your mouths.

You whimper as he licks into your mouth, moaning breathlessly as he lifts you up onto the counter. Your legs are around his hips now, the cool marble hissing into the warm skin under your thighs as he pushes his hand against your back and presses your heat against his hardness.

You moan into his mouth, needy and desperate at the feeling. He grunts into your mouth as he steadily grinds his crotch into yours. "Fucking. Tease," he punctuates between feverish kisses. The taste of him so heavily in your mouth that your belly dips in arousal. "Am not," you defend, breathless as he continues rutting his hips against you.

He huffs tangling a hand into your hair and tugging back slightly, enough to elicit a soft moan. "You and your shy gazes, you bite your lip every time I fucking talk to you and it's been two months," he pants. "You're so cute too, that pink lipstick you wear," he breathes, leaning forward against the taut skin of your neck, inhaling sharply. "And you smell so fucking good all the time," he pants, sucking harshly onto the skin of your pulse point.

You whimper as his teeth graze the spot, sucking on it harshly for as long as he wishes. He tugs your frame off the counter feverishly, turning you around tugging your hair back to pant into your ear. "Last chance," he breathes lowly, daring you. You forego words in favour of pressing your fleshy behind back into his hardness, circling your hips against him.

He grunts into your ear, his hand leaving your hair as you fall forward, your sweaty palms pressed against the stone marble. You pant, desperate and impatient as he unbuckles his belt and tugs his slacks down. He pushes his underwear down around his thighs, taking his cock into his hand as the other pushes your soft blue nightie over the swell of your behind. He groans at the sight, the supple flesh making his mouth water as he strokes his cock languidly.

"I don't have a condom," he pants. "But I'm clean," he assures you. "So am I," You rasp, your wetness seeping through your underwear in anticipation, shaking your head. "Just fuck me." His fingers work to pull your underwear down at your consent, bunched around your thighs and tangled into a roll of fabric around the plush flesh. You feel his cock at your entrance, the excitement making you curl your toes and bite your lip in anticipation.

"What do we say?" He drawls lowly in your ear, the words you’re usually asking spat at you as if to mock you. You pant quietly, hands splayed against the cool marble, "Please." He lets out a soft breath in response to your satisfactory answer, wrapping his fingers around your hip as he steadies himself. He pushes into you with one non-stop, fluid movement, your breath being sucked from your lungs once he bottoms out.

He huffs steadily from behind you, the feeling of how hot and wet you are tempting him into permanent residency. He moves his hips in quick, sharp thrusts, the fronts of your thighs going numb with the force against the counter. You're panting constantly, letting out little squeaks here and there that steal his concentration. He tugs you up by the hair, the pain making you moan out, the soft sound ricocheting off the walls.

He keeps one hand holding your hair and the other wrapped over your lips to keep you quiet as he picks up his movements again. You moan freely against his hand, your rattled hands holding your soft nightie bunched up around your waist. "Fuck, you feel so good," he swallows, his belly tight with pleasure. "Why did we play pretend for so long, hm? I could've fucked you the first day you walked in here."

To you his words sound as distant as if you were at the bottom of a swimming pool and he was above the surface, calling out to you. You can barely breathe as he grinds his hips, deep into you. You whimper against his front and his grip loosens on your hair, giving your stiff neck the opportunity to fall forward and regain movement.

"Are you close? I'm gonna cum," his voice is stiff and strained as he speaks, as if he was holding his breath with each spoken word. You protest against his hand, until he moves it. "Not yet," you pant in disapproval. He puts his hand back over your mouth and uses the other to reach around and rub into your neglected clit deliciously. You jolt at the touch, the sensitivity making goosbumps rise along your hot skin.

His thrusts are never-ending, a constant loop of hard and fast and so deep that you want to cry in pleasure. Already addicted to the delicious poke of his prominent hip bones against the flesh of your behind. You whine incessantly against his hand, your orgasm approaching so fast that you grapple onto the hand at the apex of your thighs, digging your nails painfully into the skin as you feel yourself tighten.

He hisses from behind you as you cum, the tight pulsing of your walls sucking him in with you beyond his control. He pulls out just as he cums, his hand finally fleeing your mouth in favour of stroking his cock. You hum as you feel his cum dribble down along the swell of your flesh, the head of his cock pressed against the skin as he finishes.

You're stood, both panting with burning lungs as you try to catch your breath. Sated with the amicable tension that has finally boiled over. Amidst the romantic act of mopping up his cum with a paper towel, he tugs your panties back on for you and fixes your dress.

"Are you okay, darling?" He asks, buckling up his belt as you stand on shaky legs, still facing the marble counter. You hum in response, turning to face him with a smile and your lip between your teeth. His belly lurches with the look you give him, so docile and different from your usual put together demeanour. Your breathing is uneven and your skin seems to glow in the aftermath of your orgasm, he tilts his head at the sight.

"Look at you," he coos, taking in your subdued aura. "Is this what you wanted?" He asks, placing lithe fingers under your chin as he hums in question. You blink slowly, as if on the brink of sleep as you wet your lips. "I'd have never thought you wanted me too," you answer quietly.

He leans forward and tugs your bottom lip between his teeth, letting it snap back as he kisses you full on the lips. You melt at the feeling, the way he grips your jaw as you kiss is probably the only thing keeping you from melting into a puddle in the moment.

He pulls away with a chaste peck, "I guarantee I wanted you before you wanted me," he breathes. You groan in protest, furrowing your brows. "Don't talk like that," you warn softly. He smirks playfully, "Why not?" You bite your lip, your underwear still heavily slick with your cum as you press your thighs together. He raises his eyebrows, your body language screaming the obvious to him. "You want more?" He challenges in question. You nod shyly, your cheeks hot and eyes hooded and heavy with arousal.

He tugs you upstairs by your hand and as if tucking you into bed, fucks you onto his fingers with your face buried in your pillow until you're sleepy and sated.

He dreams of you that night, of you needily crawling under the meeting desk where he works and taking him into your mouth in front of his whole office of staff.

When you wake, Doyoung is in your mind before you open your eyes. And you smile as you hear him in the next room already playing with Sungmin. This is a life you could get used to, you think, as you stand in the doorway and watch them try to piece together a puzzle on the floor.

Sungmin giggles through an excited call of your name, "Help us! Daddy is bad." You chuckle as Doyoung scoffs, playfully offended as he protests, "I've done most of it!" You love how defensive Doyoung gets when Sungmin playfully teases him in front of you, it's something he's been doing a lot more of lately. You shake your head, "I need to have a shower, Sungmin," you decline, your eyes naturally finding Doyoung's gaze.

His playful smile still hangs on his lips as he sends you a wink, and you note that it's the first time you've showered with a smile on your face throughout.

You've come to learn that Doyoung isn't overbearing when it comes to affection, he prefers compliments from a distance to a spontaneous hug or nuzzle against your nose.

On the day that marks your third month in the household, he comes home with a lustrous gold bracelet and a warm smile. That night he fucks you hard in his bed and tells you how pretty it looks against your skin as you cum.

Sungmin feels the change in the house too, the atmosphere is much happier to him since his Sharky is no longer used as a reward and is now just his cuddle buddy when he sleeps.

You’re sipping from your coffee in the kitchen while Sungmin is still asleep, heavy rain hammering against the tin roof of the house. “I uh.... Received some news early this morning,” Doyoung mutters quietly. “Camilla checked herself into rehab,” he sighs. You tilt your head, “Does this mean she’s trying to get custody?” He shakes his head, placing his mug down. “It just means she’s taking the steps to be able to at least have supervised visits with Sungmin. She won’t be able to have full custody again, even if she wanted to it’d take years to validate herself to a judge.”

You nod, taking in the hefty information, “Maybe Sungmin will have his Mother back in his life one day.” Doyoung scoffs, “You’re more of a Mother than she ever was.” A soft smile tugs at your lips at the heart-warming comment, the implication that Doyoung sees you as a Mother figure to Sungmin makes you so happy you could burst.

“Have you...” You wave off sheepishly, “Never mind.”

“No,” Doyoung hums, “Continue, what were you going to say?” You pause, sighing. “Do you ever think about having more children?” To your surprise he nods immediately, “I always thought I’d have more,″ he drawls, dreamily. “I grew up in a big family and I loved it. You have such a big support system around constantly and I’d love to spend my days creating the same support for my children.”

You nod, sipping your coffee quietly at his admission. “You?” He asks, “You want to have children darling?” A smile etches its way onto your lips, you nod rapidly. “I can’t wait to be a Mother,” you gush at the thought. “To give life and have it’s world revolve around you, it would be so empowering.” He chuckles at your fairytale-like explanation, “You’d be a natural,” he notes and you smile, humbled behind your beige mug.

Over the month Doyoung and yourself had come to an arrangement, instead of continuing the struggle of house-hunting. You forcibly made him agree to cut $50 from your pay each week for rent, the only way you’d be able to handle living with him for free without feeling like a charity case.

December approaches, bringing with it a glacial frost. But you hardly felt it because to you, you had never felt so warm. The three of you spend a late evening putting up the Christmas tree, lashings of gold and red tinsel and silver beads and glass baubles. Warm white fairy lights glittering against every surface when Doyoung helps Sungmin switch them on.

While Doyoung’s workload heavies, you spend your days on the couch with Sungmin, a fleece blanket draped over you two as you play him all of your favourite childhood Christmas movies. Sungmin keeps you entertained though, the way he laughs at simple jokes and visual slapsticks makes you laugh along with him. And suddenly worn out movies seem unpredictable and exciting again.

Come Christmas day, you’re awoken by Sungmin jumping on your bed, insisting you wake up so he can open his presents. You trot downstairs with sock clad toes and constant yawns, the sound of Doyoung softly explaining to him that presents do not define the meaning of Christmas going in one ear and out the other.

You watch from afar as he opens each gift, the sound of his brutal tearing of your neat wrapping making you whine. Doyoung chuckles at the sight, coming over to squeeze your shoulder comfortingly. The action painting a smile onto your lips. “There’s one for you,” he says softly, above a whisper. “Hm? What for?” You tilt your head, not expecting anything in return for the cute heart-printed tie you bought him. “I don’t deserve anything.”

“Hm, now that you say it. You haven’t been very good,” he narrows his eyes teasingly. You bite your lip in response to his teasing manner, to which he shakes his head at. “Sungmin,” he calls holding his hand out with a bright smile.

The 3 year old hands the small box to him, “Thankyou son,” he grins, causing the little boy to giggle in response. “Here,” he says, taking your hand and placing the small velvet box in it. Your heart beat speedily pulses as you move to open the box, prying it open with your fingers. You gasp at the sight, a gorgeous gold locket, glimmering up at you from your palm.

“It’s so gorgeous,” you smile breathlessly, taking in the way he smiles at your reaction. “Will you put it on for me?” Doyoung smiles, happy that his heart is well received and nods happily. He takes it out of where it lays and drapes it across your neck, clasping it behind you.

Your fingers flutter over the heart shaped pendant in admiration, pulling him into a hug as soon as the necklace is secured. “Thankyou so much Doyoung,” you gush appreciatively. He huffs sheepishly, “You’re welcome.” Sungmin watches the exchange quietly, a quizzical look on his face at the affection playing out in front of him.

“Open it up,” he whispers. You furrow your brows, you hadn’t realised it opened until your fingers clicked the lustrous heart open with a gasp. Inside sits a photo of the three of you, taken on Sungmin’s 3rd birthday. Doyoung had taken you two out to the zoo for the day. Sungmin didn’t get to see his beloved Dinosaurs but he was ecstatic regardless.

The photo was taken in the spur of the moment, under a shady tree with the camera on Doyoung’s smart phone. You had never expected the photo to end up around your neck and encased in gold. “I love it,” you smile, “I love it so much.”

“Yay!” Sungmin cheers, “It worked Daddy.” He smiles proudly, his smile now full and dazzling, another feature he shares with his Father. Doyoung chuckles as Sungmin waves his arms in the air happily and in this moment, nothing could have made it more perfect.

Lunch was a duel effort, Doyoung helped you peel potatoes for roasting and you drizzled carrots in honey to accompany the roast. Your Christmas lunch spent with constant giggles and little sirens playing from Sungmin’s new firetruck toy. Who speaking of - was fast sleep, snuggling his new Pterodactyl plushie in the next room when you finally got some alone time.

Doyoung kicked the door closed behind him and sunk to the bed with you on top, your lips incessant against his with a craving for the taste of his tongue. He hums deeply into your mouth as you roll your hips, eliciting a soft moan from your own lips. “Are you on top tonight?” He teases, breathlessly. You whine, shaking your head in protest. “You on top.”

“I want you on top, and I want you to fuck me hard,” you pant breathlessly against his lips. He forgoes any snarky comeback about how hopelessly needy you are, and flips you over, your frame beneath his as he presses himself onto you. He peels the clothing from his body, watching you do the same in your desperation, the painful ache deep in your belly needing immediate tending to.

He moves to his bedside drawer to reach for a condom but you grab his hand, stopping him. He looks to you confused and awaiting an explanation as you stare back with sure eyes, “No condom.”

“No?” He asks, crawling up the span of your body, “And if you get pregnant?” He teases, as if expecting you to give in and ask him to get one anyway. You moan breathlessly at the thought, “I want it, I want to.” He hooks your thigh over his hip as he pushes into you slowly, each inch making your eyes roll back a little more.

“You want to have my baby?” He asks, panting as he begins throwing his hips forward, just as hard as you begged for. You nod rapidly, keening as he rolls his hips, hard and fast into your sopping heat. “Fuck,” he curses. “It’ll have your eyes,” he grunts. “Your lips.”

You keen, rutting your hips up against his, desperately. “Your lips,” you pant. “Your brains, your- Ah!” You gasp, his cock hitting that patchy flesh that sucks your orgasm out of you so quickly, you can barely savour it. He snaps a hand over your mouth, the familiar action feeling like the last piece of a puzzle falling into place.

“Mm!” You moan, your fingernails digging into the skin of his back, hooking your legs around his hips in an effort to feel more of him. He groans, snapping his hips fluidly as he feels you tighten around him. Your moans incessant against his hand as he tugs on a hardened nipple.

You head lulls back as you cum, your hips squeezing his waist so tightly that his thrusts become stiff and sloppy. He moans, breathily as you squeeze him in strong pulses. You peel his hand away from your mouth as you stare up at him with wide, blown-out eyes. “Cum, cum inside me,” you encourage as you pant. He groans at your words, your shameless begging.

“Fill me up Doyoung,” you moan, biting your lip in anticipation as you watch him struggle with his impending release. By the time he cums, you’ve already started building your next orgasm, the feeling of his cum filling you up making you whine, whimpering for more.

He cums in soft pulses, delicious moans softly spilling from his lips in between pants. He kisses you passionately, your lips numb with the sheer force of the kiss as he licks into your mouth. As he pulls out, he watches his cum follow. His hands holding your thighs up and apart as his love seeps out of you. You whimper, whining inwardly as you clench around his cum, still desperate for another release.

“More,” you breathe, coming out strangled amidst your need. He’s used to it by now, how greedy you are when it comes to sex. Once is never enough for you. But in the way you insatiably beg for more each time without fail, makes him want to do nothing else but.

He hovers above you once again, sliding two fingers in and crooking them upwards, knuckle deep. His cum spills out around his fingers as he thrusts them quickly, pushing his hot cum further into you. The loud squelching in result, bouncing off the walls in a lewd rhythm.

You pant hotly against the underside of his jaw as his moves quicken, the pure white-hot pleasure causing you to squeeze your eyes shut with a small squeak. It doesn’t take you long. Your thighs close around his hand as you cum, your hips rolling against his fingers as you ride out the orgasm, his gaze burning into yours as he watches you come undone.

“Do you think we did it?” You mumble against his chest, still feeling his cum bubble around inside of you each time you move. “We’ll see, darling,” he whispers against your temple with a lingering kiss, fatigue pulling you into a deep slumber to the rhythm of his soft breaths.  
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A month later you’re sat on the bathroom counter in the evening, waving around the little blue stick that determines whether or not you conceived on Christmas night.

Doyoung is stood across from you, not looking as nervous. He’s been sure this whole time after all, Sungmin took one try, he tells you. He silences the timer that goes off on his phone, signally the 5 minute wait is over as you shake with nerves. You slowly trail your gaze toward the stick in your hand, your eyes going wide at the two faint pink lines reading; Positive.

You gasp and look to Doyoung who grins immediately, “Yes?” You nod, tears pricking at your eyes as he picks you up off the counter, spinning you around once before placing you down with a gentle kiss to your lips.

“We’re going to have a baby,” you smile breathlessly, overwhelmed with emotion. He smiles brightly, repeating the words with a nod. “We’re going to have a baby.”  
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As your belly slowly grew during Spring, your life had changed drastically. Your Mother had refused to speak to you for a fortnight after you told her you were pregnant with Doyoung’s baby, only coming around to the idea after you sent her a photo of your scans.

It had been one year since you met Doyoung, the day marking the milestone celebrated with more Dinosaur play and endless amounts of love, of making love.

That’s the thing, Doyoung didn’t fuck anymore, he made love.

He showered you in kisses and constantly reminded you how beautiful you were, taking you out shopping every so often to accommodate the way your body changed. He told you he was in love with you each morning and each night, the sight of you with your swollen belly and bright smile pulling him further and further until he was utterly and completely weak for you.

You had his heart in the palm of your hands.

Your last trimester was extremely difficult and uncomfortable for you to adapt to. Your back was burning with searing pain, your limited sleeping positions taking a toll on your bones as you withstood the torment. Most painkillers and ache creams weren’t pregnancy friendly, but Doyoung used his experience to help you adjust.

He was constantly giving you massages and making you decaffeinated, herbal teas to help keep you happy and calm. And just the effort alone helped you relax.

You and Doyoung had decided to let Sungmin call you Mummy, as he so desperately hoped would happen. You think it was the happiest you had ever seen him when you told him you were giving him a baby sibling, the squeal that he let out when he felt the baby kick against his hand would forever be one of your favourite memories.

You’re one week past your due date when your water breaks, Doyoung helping you with your breathing techniques to keep you calm as he drives you to the hospital.

The labor is long and excruciating, the decision of foregoing drugs left you with 14 hours of excruciating pain and impatient hours spent lurching forward and squeezing Doyoung’s hand to all hell, with each contraction. When you finally give birth it’s an early morning, 5:37am and it’s quiet enough outside your ward that you start to believe you’re the only one’s awake in the world right now.

Yours and Doyoung’s love in the form of a baby girl who screams incessantly as she enters the world. She has your eyes just as Doyoung had hoped, his lips and her brother’s chubby cheeks. She’s of good size and is completely happy and healthy. You decide to call her Soomin, the name fitting her as soon as she was placed against your chest.

To Doyoung’s amusement, Sungmin insists everyone whisper whilst they talk around her, and when he meets her he pets her head so softly, it’s as if he thinks she’s porcelain.

Doyoung takes time off work as he helps you recover, he lets you sleep soundly through the night and jumps up to feed his newborn daughter as soon as she cries.

Doyoung is in the kitchen, bouncing your babbling newborn in his arms with a smile that still amazes you every time you see it, when Sungmin runs up to you and passes you a drawing. “Is this for me?” You ask, eyes trailing over the colourful crayon drawing. He nods happily as you read it, the drawing of a pink stick figure and a little green stick figure making you chuckle in admiration. The words ‘I love you Mummy!’’ Scrawled over the top in big, orange letters. His hand-writing had improved so much.

“And I love you too, Mummy,” Doyoung drawls above your shoulder, pressing a kiss to your cheek lovingly.

The unpredictable life you had always led had finally come back to you in a good way, the best way possible.

This was your bigger and better, and you couldn’t have been more content.


End file.
